Poisoned Blood
by Alyssa4
Summary: A witness to a serious crime has fled to Venezuela. Ziva and Tony find him only to be kidnapped themselves. Will Gibbs be able to find them before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own any of the characters from NCIS. As this is my first NCIS story, and my first story in several years, please be kind!_

Tony could no longer be positive of what was real. His fevered dreams and glimpses of reality had no definite boundaries. If he could have thought rationally he would have taken comfort in the fact that his awareness of his pain had lessened as well, but instead of thoughts he knew only fear and confusion. His awareness of changes from piercing light to suffocating darkness was minimal at most. Tony ceases to exist; if consciousness of oneself is to be considered existence. Ziva may be painfully aware of Tony's labored breathing, but for all intents and purposes Tony DiNozzo was dead to the world.

* * *

One Week Earlier

Tony watched as the little boy ran around with a plastic grocery bag tied to a string. The wind cooperated and filled the bag so one could almost imagine it was a balloon. Almost. Tony felt a pang of guilt because of his own lavish childhood, but the boy seemed happy, and all Tony could remember were empty rooms and quick glances, so maybe this kid wasn't that bad off.

Tony's focus shifted as another uniformed, gun-toting soldier passed him on the sidewalk. _Where was Ziva?_ He wondered. He didn't like her going off by herself, but she was very protective of her 'sources'. It started to sprinkle slightly, but it was a warm rain and Tony didn't even attempt to find cover. He just sat on the bench sipping at his coffee.

"You are getting wet," Ziva's voice came from behind. He hadn't even heard her approach.

"Did your source give you anything?" Tony asked in response. He resented Ziva's super skills and decided to simply ignore them. Ziva gave a sly smile and held up a slip of paper with two fingers.

"An address," She replied, drawing out the words which gave her such obvious pleasure.

"Good, let's call Gibbs." Tony stood up and threw one last glance at the running, smiling little boy before he turned to follow Ziva.

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this," Abby muttered under her breath. She turned to McGee who was working beside her, attempting to pull up a satellite picture of the address Ziva had given them.

"They'll be fine," McGee answered mechanically, only the slightest of annoyance apparent in his voice.

"McGee!" Abby whined, giving him a soft slap on the shoulder. "If you haven't noticed, Venezuela and the US aren't on the best of terms! If they get caught snooping around for a suspect to question, who knows what will happen?"

"They're not questioning a suspect. They're questioning a witness. Plus, Ziva can handle herself in a Venezuelan jail," McGee responded. Abby glared at him. A few piercing seconds passed before McGee haltingly added, "And so can Tony. But that doesn't matter because nothing's going to happen."

* * *

Tony and Ziva moved casually towards the apartment building. Tony's fair skin and eyes attracted a little attention, but not enough to cause them any worry. They pushed the intercom button for a random apartment. A voice called out "¿Quién es?" to which Tony responded "Cartero." A buzz promptly sounded and Ziva pulled open the door. They headed up two flights of stairs before reaching Apartment 11, which belonged to a distant relative of Lt. David Santos with whom, according to Ziva, he was staying.

Tony's hand made an unconscious motion towards his hip but was unable to find the gun it was looking for. He groaned softly and muttered "I feel so naked." Ziva chuckled, giving Tony a sideways glance and crooked smile as she reached up her hand and gave three quick raps on the door.

The door slid open a few seconds later. A clean-shaven, short haired man stood looking at them. He appeared tired but not surprised to see them. "You've come a long way," he stated wearily.

"Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS. This is Ziva David, our liaison from Mossad. We'd like to ask you a few questions." Tony gave the man a fleeting look at his badge.

"Look, I can't testify to anything. I never saw anything." Lt. Santos replied.

"You left the states rather suddenly," Ziva prompted.

"Well, I wasn't feeling very safe. I had to get away," Lt. Santos sighed then added, "Can we talk about this somewhere else? I don't want to get my cousin involved."

* * *

Lt. Santos sat on a tattered bench while Ziva and Tony stood in front of him. The slightly wooded area contained several other benches but no more people. Lt. Santos seemed to visibly relax.

"Why can't you testify?" Tony questioned bluntly.

"It's too dangerous. It goes too high up, you could never convict them." Santos voiced resignedly, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

"Haven't you ever seen _A Few Good Men_?" Tony scoffed. He was smiling slightly, playing the movie in his head. "I love Jack Nicholson!"

"Tony!" Ziva hissed sharply drawing Tony out of his reverie.

Tony's smile faded and he turned quickly. He could almost feel both Lt. Santos and Ziva tensing as four men approached them dressed in military greens with black and red scarves covering the lower half of their faces. One carried an assault rifle while the other three sported handguns. Tony realized how very isolated they were, and how very close to Colombia. "ELN," he whispered to Ziva. She nodded slightly.

The men were running now, mere seconds away. Tony saw Ziva reach for the knife he knew to be hidden across the small of her back. "Ziva, no!" Tony rasped. But it was too late; the knife was already out and the four men were upon them. The men quickly separated, clearly following a plan. The man with the rifle held back, controlling the scene, the other three picked a target and headed for them.

Ziva slashed quickly at the man who reached out to grab her. The slight gash to his hand surprised him and he dropped his gun. As Ziva swiftly kicked the man in the gut Tony saw the assault rifle being quickly aimed. Without thinking he lunged at Ziva, pushing her aside. He hit the ground before he even heard the shot.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony fought the unconsciousness that threatened to wash over him. The sharp pain emanating from his thigh commanded the majority of his attention, but through the haze he saw a canopied truck rushing towards them. Turning his head slightly Ziva came into view, struggling against the man who held her in an apparent attempt to reach her fallen partner. Lt. Santos had been taken easily and was being shoved into the back of the truck. Two men had pocketed their guns and lifted Ziva between them, unceremoniously throwing her in the back of the truck where other armed men quickly drew her in. Free of their load, the two headed towards Tony and the pool of blood he currently occupied.

Tony didn't struggle. He was determined to make the trip to the truck as painless as possible. Unfortunately his thigh and the large hole traversing it refused to cooperate. He managed to choke back the scream that desperately tried to break free, but as he was abruptly dropped into the truck a drawn out moan temporarily covered the guttural acceleration of the truck.

Though his eyes were pinched shut, Tony could visualize Ziva as he heard her arguing with their captors: "I need to help him! I need… ¡Yo necesito ayudarlo!"

A minute later Tony felt pressure encircling his thigh. He pried upon his eyes to find Ziva leaning over him, tightening the belt which she had taken off and wrapped above his wound.

"You are lucky, the bullet did not fragment," Ziva announced softly.

"I'm lucky? No, you're lucky that I decided to take a bullet for you!" Tony spat through gritted teeth.

"What movie does this remind you of?" Ziva asked quickly.

"What?" Though Tony was aware of his loss of critical thinking, he was pretty sure that had been a non-sequitur.

"A movie, Tony. Think of a movie," she prompted again.

Tony tried to think of an answer. When he couldn't he tried to say something, anything to reassure Ziva. When that didn't work he struggled just to remain conscious. Suddenly the world went black.

* * *

Ziva remained still with Tony's head resting on her lap as the truck bumped along primitive roads. She could sense their ascent as they wound up the mountains that followed the border between Venezuela and Colombia. The last hours had been spent in silence. At first she had tried to convince her armed escorts to drop Tony off at a hospital, but it was soon apparent they had no intention of stopping. She decided against irritating them further, as Tony's wound did not seem imminently fatal but upsetting their guards could be.

Her arms shook as Tony started to stir. Tony blinked several times and then blue eyes met brown.

"How long have I been out?" He managed through parched lips.

"About two and a half hours."

"We must be in Colombia by now," Tony faintly surmised, to which Ziva merely nodded.

Tony swallowed hard and licked his lips before he asked, "Did they get your backup knife?" Ziva nodded quickly and turned her face away, briefly betraying her embarrassment. Tony felt briefly at his belt, but was agonizingly aware of his small knife's utter uselessness against half a dozen armed and militant men.

"S'Okay," Tony slurred painfully, "We'll figure out something."

* * *

"Abby, have they checked in yet?" Gibbs barked as he entered the lab. Abby twirled around, her pigtails gently slapping across her face.

"No," she responded. After a short pause she added with concern, lifting her eyes slowly to meet Gibbs', "It's been three hours, do you think something happened?"

"Maybe," he muttered noncommittally, "Have you tried calling them?"

"It went straight to voicemail," she pouted.

"Then use that CPS stuff and locate where they are," Gibbs ordered. A small smile tweaked Abby's face.

"GPS, Gibbs, and I've already started." She twirled again to face her computer and went back to work.

Gibbs waited in the lab more or less patiently while Abby clicked away on her keyboard. When she stopped suddenly Gibbs walked up to stand beside her. "What is it Abbs?" He asked quietly.

"I can't get a fix on them," she nearly whispered. Gibbs managed to give her a brief hug before he stormed off to face Jenny.

* * *

"You didn't even _think_ to ask me?" Director Shepard growled.

"It was supposed to only take a day or two," Gibbs growled right back.

They stood face to face and for several seconds, each attempting to assert their dominance in a staring contest. Jenny broke the silence, purring sarcastically, "Well that worked out great Jethro. Now two agents are missing in a country that's not very friendly to the US."

Gibbs did not appreciate this admonition when he should be spending his time finding his agents. He tried to control his voice, but his words still betrayed his anger, "I'll take care of it, Jenny."

"You are not going to Venezuela!" She yelled as she read his mind, "I'll have armed guards watching you if I have to. You are not going to make this situation worse. Tony and Ziva will find a way to contact us, and _then_ we'll act."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm sorry this chapter is so short, who would have thought that a 12 credit schedule would be so time-consuming?_

The truck slowed to a stop and immediately the prisoners were unloaded into a makeshift town. Ziva glanced around quickly, taking in the few buildings and the various people milling around, before she was quickly shoved into a small windowless box of a building. Lt. Santos was quickly shoved in behind her, and a few minutes later Tony was carried in. The heavy door was immediately slammed shut and bolted from the outside.

Ziva walked over to Tony, who appeared to be either unconscious or sleeping. She gently slid a folded blanket under his thigh, elevating it as best as she could. She had long since removed the tourniquet to prevent tissue death, but to her relief, Santos' shirt, which had acted as her improvised bandage, had not been soaked through.

With Tony attended to, Ziva started to pace around their new cell. It was roughly 10 feet by 10 feet. Besides the blanket, she noted some bottles of water and a bucket. Not very promising. Santos sat down against the far wall and let out a choked sigh. To Ziva he seemed on the verge of tears and the edge of a breakdown: the last thing she needed.

"Do not worry. They want to ransom us, not hurt us," Ziva said in her softest most reassuring tone.

She could imagine their captors perusing their passports, planning the most efficient way to get the most money possible. Fortunately they had carried nothing that identified them as agents, but their situation was still desperate.

In the midst of her ponderings a scrapping at the door alerted Ziva to the imminent entrance of one of their guards. He carried a large plate with rice, beans, and some ground beef. Setting it down, he turned to exit again.

"Wait!" Ziva exclaimed in her flawless Spanish. She motioned to where Tony was lying and put on her most pleading tone, "Can you bring us something to clean and dress his wound?"

Without any acknowledgement of having heard her, the guard continued out the door and the sound of the bolt announced once again their imprisonment.

After a short internal debate, Ziva decided to wake Tony. They hadn't eaten since early that morning, and she hoped that if nothing else she could get Tony to drink some water.

"Tony?" She called quietly as she gently shook his shoulder. After ten seconds without result she shook a little harder, a slight lump growing in her throat. She almost sighed in relief when he starting to stir. His eyes blinked opened and he turned to face her.

"Hello, Ziva," he managed though his tongue stuck relentlessly to the walls of his dry mouth.

She rewarded him with a broad smile, which she held for several seconds before it faltered.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asked softly.

"Oh, I'm peachy. Have you got an escape plan yet?" He asked expectantly.

"No," She answered quickly, "I have to get you better. I am _not_ going to be carrying you through the jungle."

Tony gave out a throaty laugh, reminding Ziva again that he needed water. She quickly reached for a bottle of water and unscrewed the top. Tilting Tony's head upward with one hand and bringing the water towards his lips with the other she helped Tony take several small gulps of water.

Just then the bolt was undone and the door opened minutely. A hand deposited a near empty bottle of some sort of alcohol and a few clean rags. The door abruptly closed again.

"Delivery?" Tony asked, his voice stronger and clearer.

Ziva reached and grabbed the items, playfully displaying them for Tony. She then moved down and began to untie her makeshift dressing. She slowed as she reached the last layer. Dried blood had in effect glued the shirt to his leg. Afraid that it may start bleeding again, she wet the shirt with a little water and tried to slowly dislodge it. Tony grimaced softly, causing Ziva to pause temporarily. A painful minute later and the shirt was tossed to the side. She couldn't properly view the wound so she began to rip Tony's jeans.

"Trying to get into my pants Ziva? I'm telling Gibbs," Tony laughed.

Ziva forcefully ignored him, optimistically thinking that he must be feeling better. Without asking she removed the knife from Tony's belt.

"Hey!" Tony mocked modesty.

Ziva threw him a stern glare before using the knife to cut the rest of the pant leg off. She examined the wound as best she could without causing Tony any more pain. She had seen worse gunshot wounds before; but then again she had also seen better. She picked up the bottle of alcohol and unscrewed the cap.

"You're not going to waste that on my leg, are ya?" Tony questioned.

In response Ziva poured a generous amount onto the wound. Tony winced at the sudden burning sensation and clenched his teeth, missing Ziva's smug smile. Lifting his leg she poured some onto one of the rags and applied it to the exit wound. Using the remaining rags she made the best bandage she could. It was fairly secure and she was confident it would withstand moderate activity.

She stood up and wiped the excess alcohol from her hands onto her pants. Looking around she declared, "Now to escape."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks __again for all the __ reviews! _

Ziva did not like their chances with a smash and run escape plan, but she had been unable to think of anything better. They had spent a full 24 hours in their small, musty jail. Santos was despondent and while Tony seemed to be holding up well, he was beginning to warm to the touch and Ziva was worried about infection. She had decided that their best chance was during the last check of the night. She could only hope that the guards were consistent; she couldn't afford to wait another day.

If the guards followed the same pattern as the day before, they would open the door to quickly exchange their relief bucket before going to sleep. They did not seem too concerned with the possibility of escape as they had not checked on them the rest of the night. Her plan was a simple one: decommission the unfortunate guard, grab Tony, run like hell. The quick look she got through the door when the buckets were exchanged showed what looked to be a deserted camp. If she did things quietly enough, their escape may not be noticed for some time.

* * *

Gibbs was pacing. He had called in all the favors he could, but so far there were no good leads. The only new information that he had was that Lt. Santos was also missing. Nothing in Santos' file indicated that he could be dangerous, and Gibbs did not believe that he could have taken both Tony and Ziva. As much as he hated to agree with the director, there wasn't much that he could do in Venezuela. Yet. His gut was telling him that his agents' disappearance was not related to the case that had brought them to Venezuela but he still had McGee investigating that angle.

However much his rational side argued, he had made up his mind. In 48 hours, with or without any new information and with or without official sanction, he was flying to South America.

* * *

Ziva had put it to Lt. Santos very simply: he could come with them, or he could stay behind in the hopes of being released. She had warned him that she would not let him jeopardize their escape. He hesitated in answering, but a quizzical look from Tony led him to finally choose to leave with them.

As the time neared Ziva tried to run through her plan as often as possible, which was often for the simple reason there wasn't much to go over. They had eaten all the food they were given, and Ziva had secured the extra bottles of water on their persons. Ziva had stationed Santos next to Tony, so when the door opened he could quickly help the injured man up.

Ziva paced back and forth across the small room, Santos stood shaking his leg, and Tony sat quietly with his eyes closed. Ziva had tried to clean his wound as best as she could a couple of hours earlier. She had not liked what she had seen. The wound was encased in a red circle of inflamed skin and sickly yellow pus was beginning to appear. Not wanting to worry Tony, she had not mentioned it.

The last 24 hours had brought increasing discomfort for Tony. It had started with alternating chills and hot flashes. He didn't want to worry Ziva, so he tried as best as he could to conceal his shivering and he attempted to keep the sweat from building up on his face and arms. This required that he quickly wipe them down whenever Ziva's back was turned. In addition the aching from his thigh had begun to emanate farther and farther from the actual wound. So far it was nothing that he couldn't deal with. It wasn't like he had the plague or anything.

* * *

Finally the moment came. The now familiar sound of the bolt being turned rang in Ziva's ears through the tense silence. Ziva had moved the bucket further into the room, forcing the guard to step a little farther. As he bent to grab the handle Ziva rushed towards him, punching him as hard as she could manage in the center of his lower jaw. The man's head snapped back quickly and he fell limp to the floor. There was no way to know how long he would remain unconscious, but they would have to take what they could get. Ziva could have easily killed him, and while it was tempting, she decided against it. If they happened to be recaptured, she did not want the already violent men be to be even angrier.

She turned quickly to see a standing Tony supported by an apprehensive Santos. She took up her of position supporting Tony's right side. They made their way quickly to the door. Slowly opening it wider Ziva noted that there was no one else in sight. Some noise was coming from a building 100 yards away, and the group of three paused to listen to it.

"Someone got into the alcohol," Tony whispered. Ziva glared at him and started to pull the men towards the tree line. She had decided that they had better head northeast, back towards Venezuela but out of the mountains.

They were able to move fairly quickly and soon they could no longer hear the noise from the camp. Ziva periodically glanced behind her, to assure herself that the ELN had not yet been alerted to their absence and started a search.

Two hours into their escape they continued to struggle through the woods. The tree cover was not so thick that it greatly inhibited their movement, but as they continued on they began to slow. Tony was supporting less and less of his own weight on his good leg, and Ziva and Santos struggled to pick up the slack.

Ziva soon realized that they had to stop. Tony was sweating profusely and his eyes were pinched in pain.

"Let's stop here," she said softly, motioning to a long log. She and Santos gently set Tony down, propping him up on the log. Ziva straddled his legs and squatted down to see Tony's face in the dark. Gently pressing the back of her hand to Tony's forehead, she quickly confirmed that his temperature was rising.

"Tony, have some water," Ziva said, pulling out one of the bottles. Tony took two gulps before he abruptly starting choking. Soon the choking had evolved into retching and his dinner of beans and rice intermingled with the dirt. He continued his excruciating heaving long after his stomach was empty. When his abdominal muscles finished their spiteful dance, silence did not ensue.

In the distance several dogs were barking.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks __again for all the__ reviews! __I'm sorry this chapter took me so long; it's midterm season. I threw in a little Spanish, but it's followed by the English translation. Anyway, enjoy!_

Ziva jumped to her feet. The noise of the dogs and the shouts in Spanish were approaching them from behind. It was nearly pitch black, with the light from the stars barely filtering through the trees. They did not have much time. The dogs appeared to be trained and on their trail. Ziva needed to throw them off.

As if reading her mind, Tony gave a little cough then whispered, "There's this great scene in _Cool Hand Luke_ where he throws the dogs off his track by spreading curry powder and pepper."

"Thanks for that suggestion, Tony. But I happened to have forgot to bring along any condiments," Ziva hissed. "Do you have any on you? Or better yet, Essence of Bitch in Heat?"

Tony smiled, "I have an idea of where to find some." Ziva scowled back at him. At this point he was so exhausted that their little 10 by 10 cell was beginning to sound enticing.

Ziva looked around frantically. She had been taught that water did not mask human scent from dogs, so even the sounds of a distant stream failed to raise her spirits. The only way they could throw off the dogs would be to make it to a large city. In the middle of the jungle it did not seem likely. Out running them was impossible. They would be going back to the camp, and they would suffer the consequences of their escape attempt.

Having made up her mind, Ziva walked a couple of yards ahead of the other two, preparing to face their pursuers first and hopefully to deflect some of their rage.

* * *

The baying of the dogs was intolerable. She could hear them struggling against their leashes, fighting to break free and rush to their prey that was deliciously close. The beams of the militant's flashlights pierced through the trees. The angry shouts that followed their sighting of her were indecipherable. A burly man, with angry eyes just apparent over the bandanna tied around his face passed the leash of his dog to his neighbor. He strode purposely towards Ziva and when at arms length away slapped her viciously across her face. She instantly tasted the coppery blood flowing from where a tooth had cut into her lip.

Ziva was forced to her knees and she felt her arms being tied ruthlessly behind her back. A guard stepped up and an assault rifle was pressed against her back. Angry Eyes made his way towards Tony and Santos. Ziva tried to twist to see what was happening, but the guard behind gave her a quick rap on the side of her head with the barrel of his gun. Ziva stilled herself. She focused on listening. That grunt; that was Tony, probably being lifted. That soft cry of pain; Santos being tied up. Suddenly Angry Eyes yelled something. What was it? Ziva had to force herself to think. The translating that usually came so naturally for her was moving at a snails pace. What was it he had said? It was: This one won't make it, leave him here.

"No!" Ziva screamed. Angry Eyes turned and took a couple of steps towards her. Words were flowing quickly now. Spanish poured out of her, "Espera! No le des muerte! Mi familia no tiene dinero, tampoco la familia de Santos. Pero la familia de mi amigo es muy rica. Muy rica. Su padre puede pagarte un millón de dólares, fácilmente. Debes intentar curarlo. Es por tu propio bien."

(Wait! Don't kill him! My family does not have money, neither does Santos'. But my friends family is very rich. Very rich. His father could pay a million dollars, easily. You should try to cure him. It's in your own best interest.)

* * *

Ziva was not quite sure she had been able to keep the desperation out of her voice. In fact the despising look that Angry Eyes gave her assured her she had not. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, then turned to another militant and barked out the order: "Tráigalo".

* * *

Ziva allowed herself a sigh of relief.

* * *

Ziva watched as Tony was carried and deposited on the floor of their tiny cell. Santos was unceremoniously shoved in behind him.

"You've got to get him a doctor," Ziva protested in Spanish as she watched the door being closed and locked.

"We will send in our medic. We have no full-time doctor. But first, you have a phone call to make," Angry Eyes informed her unpleasantly.

She was roughly jerked into a nearby building where a satellite phone sat on a table.

"We have it on speaker, so don't try anything," Angry Eyes advised her.

A notepad next to the phone listed the numbers to get through to the United States. Ziva tentatively picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang twice before the call was answered.

"Mr. Dinozzo," Ziva called out tentatively.

* * *

Gibbs glanced quickly at the clock. He already had his plane ticket. He was leaving in 4 hours, no matter what.

His phone rang suddenly, drawing him away from his thoughts. He checked the number out of habit and frowned; he didn't recognize it. Answering it, he gave a tentative, "Gibbs."

"Mr. DiNozzo." Ziva's voice rang out though mild static.

Gibbs sat bolt upright. Something was wrong.

"Ziva!" He couldn't help but exclaim, "What's going on?

"We have run into some problems," Ziva paused briefly. "We are being held by the E—Hey!" Ziva exclaimed. A couple seconds elapsed, putting Gibbs even more on the edge, until Ziva continued, "We are being held… captive. They want a ransom: one million dollars. You are to fly alone, with the money, into Bogota. When you arrive you are to call this number…"

Gibbs hurriedly jotted down the numbers Ziva told him, and then repeated them back to her. Apprehensible, he found himself asking "And Tony?" Ziva's response seemed too long in coming, his heart rose high into his throat. Finally Ziva's voice said slowly, "Bring some antibiotics." And the line went dead.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: __Ok, super short chapter because… I have writer's block__ I did not think very far ahead when I started this story, so now I have no idea where I'm going. So, I am open to suggestions! Please review with your ideas, or, if you want to get more detailed, e-mail me at Thanks!_

Gibbs kept going over the short conversation in his head, but he couldn't glean any more out of it. His agents were being held hostage for a ransom. They had been taken from Venezuela to Colombia. Tony was sick or injured. That was it. That was all he knew.

Now he was preparing to fly into the unknown. He had a small bag packed by Ducky with some Penicillin and other basic medical necessities. He had a suitcase with enough money to temporarily distract the captors. He had McGee and Agent Lee, under strict instructions to keep their distance from him so as not to alert anyone who may be surveilling him. He was wired up like a Christmas tree so that McGee could track him. There would be no other backup, no LEOs. Jenny had finally relented and let him leave, but had made it clear that if anything went wrong she would deny having any knowledge of the mission and he would be all but crucified.

He waited impatiently in the line of the commercial airline. He couldn't take any chances. If they were watching the airport he had to appear as a worried father carrying a ransom, not a federal agent. Finally the smiling woman scanned his ticket and he headed down the narrow tunnel towards the plane.

* * *

To Tony it felt as if small knives were being jammed into his abdomen. In protest his body was mounting a counterattack and unleashing fire bombs. The combination of burning and stabbing was almost more than he could bare. How the pain had moved from his thigh to his stomach was beyond him. He really didn't care about the mechanism of it; he just wanted to know how to stop it. Or better yet, he wanted Ziva to know how to stop it, since he wasn't in the position to be able to do anything about it. At least he was thinking rationally now. In the hours they'd spent back in their cell he had had several outbursts of anger towards Ziva and Santos. He wasn't sure where that was coming from. He had gone through a period of hyperventilation and extreme anxiety. Sure the situation called for anxiety, but he was usually one to keep his head in times like these. He had been acting totally out of character, and he could see that now. Somehow he hadn't before.

The 'medic' the ELN had supplied had cleaned his wound and bandaged it in sterile gauze. They either had no antibiotics or refused to waste them on him, for despite Ziva's repeated appeals they did not provide him with any.

Tony asked Ziva once more how long they should expect to wait for Gibbs. She had estimated 10 to 11 hours of flight and airport time followed by 5 hours of driving if they planned to bring Gibbs to the camp.

"10 hours, Tony," Ziva responded. The annoyance that had once accompanied her responses to Tony's frequent queries had long since faded. Tony himself was fading, and the worry that caused overwhelmed any sense of aggravation she felt.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: __Ok, __so I was still afflicted with writer's block at noon today, so I made a desperate decision and e-mailed a synopsis of my story to my dad.__ Much to my surprise he responded not with a __snarky comment__ but with two very interesting ideas, one of which I used for this chapter. Thanks again for all the reviews and feel free to send me any of your ideas!_

_Oh, and for the purposes of this story I sped up the progression of Tony's affliction_

Tony had steadily worsened. In the two hours since he had asked Ziva for Gibbs' ETA, he had slipped into a semi-conscious state from which Ziva had been unable to rouse him. He muttered to himself often. Ziva caught something about Kate and later something about the plague. She even heard her name mentioned a couple of times but she could not discern the context.

For the first half of an hour she attempted to revive him by wiping his forehead with a wetted cloth and talking to him. When nothing available to her appeared to work, she started to yell and pound on the door of their cell. After an interminable period of time, the door had finally opened and she had pled her case to the guard. She was fairly certain that if the situation was allowed to continue that Tony would not live to see Gibbs return, or that he would be too far gone by then to be saved.

The guard had shut the door without any word either way. Ziva sat silently with Tony's head in her lap for 20 minutes before the door opened again. A guard gruffly informed her that they would be taking Tony to a hospital. Two guards entered and lifted Tony off of Ziva's lap. She stood and began to follow them when the first guard stopped her abruptly with his outstretched hand.

"I am coming with you," Ziva stated in firm and enunciated Spanish. The guard simply shook his head 'no'. Ziva took a step forward, so that the guard's outstretched hand was firmly pressed against her shoulder. "I am coming with you," She repeated, "I am his fiancé and know his medical history. If Mr. DiNozzo hears that you did not do everything to insure the welfare of his son he will not be happy, and his payment to you would necessarily reflect this."

Her voice was so calm and steady and her argument so logical that the guard only thought for a moment before he changed their plans to accommodate her. She almost pushed the guard aside as she moved to follow to the two carrying Tony. They moved quickly to what appeared to be the same truck that had brought them to the camp. Ziva climbed in first, helping the guards to make Tony's transfer as smooth as possible.

Through the walls of his cell, Santos could hear the muffled sound of the trucks engine revving and then the sound fading as the truck drove away.

* * *

A guard informed Ziva that they were approaching a city with a sizable hospital whose facilities they could "use". The truck continued to speed along the road though now the sounds of other cars were now perceptible. Feeling the truck weave in and out of traffic, Ziva was astounded by the lack of blaring horns. Finally she reasoned that the other drivers must have known who was driving the truck.

Before long the truck came to a screeching halt. Almost immediately the guards were unloading Tony. Another guard exited from the front of the truck and ran through the emergency doors of the hospital, assault rifle in hand. Moments later he reemerged with two doctors pushing a stretcher close behind him.

Tony was gently laid upon it and soon the doctors were rushing him through the hospital doors, Ziva by his side holding his hand and gun toting ELN following close behind.

* * *

Gibbs was just about to land in Colombia. After 11 hours of flight and airports he felt tired and irritated and his anger had only grown. He decided to make one last call to Abby before landing and facing what was ahead. Swiping his credit card and picking up the phone from the headrest in front of him he dialed the number for the lab. He awaited the connection by desperately hoping Abby would have some new information for him and trying to resign himself to the fact that it was very unlikely.

"Gibbs!" Abby screamed in his ear before he even realized that the connection had gone through.

"You got anything Abs?" Gibbs asked quickly.

"Oh Gibbs do I ever! It was so serendipitous how it happened. Normally it would have taken us days to learn about it if we learned about it at all. I just happened to be scanning…" Abby blurted excitedly before Gibbs managed to interrupt her.

"What have you got, Abby?" He asked sternly, discouraging further digressions.

"Well, the DEA heard from one of their sources in Colombia that the ELN stormed a hospital near Cúcuta with a fair-haired patient in tow."

"Can you get the exact coordinates for McGee? I'll want him to go ahead. And ask Jenny to get into contact with Mossad and see if they have any agents in Colombia who could help us." Gibbs paused briefly before he continued in almost a whisper, "Abby, you may have just saved this situation for us."


	8. Chapter 8

"What happened to him?" The doctor shot off to Ziva in rapid Spanish. He seemed reluctant to talk to the ELN, fear plainly showing on his face.

"He was shot several days ago, and he hasn't had medical treatment," Ziva answered breathlessly as they turned along with the gurney into a trauma room.

"Before he went unconscious, what were his symptoms?" The doctor asked as he and several nurses buzzed around Tony.

"He was confused," Ziva started, desperately trying to think back to the previous hours. "He was having abdominal pain and he was coughing…"

"Blood pressure 97 over 45," a nurse called, "Pulse is weak."

"He's experiencing respiratory distress," another nurse shouted as she cut away Tony's clothes.

"He had the plague," Ziva blurted out amidst the chaos. The doctor took a moment and turned towards her.

"The plague?" He questioned.

"Yes, the pneumonic plague. A couple of years ago…" She trailed off at the incredulous look the doctor gave her. He shook his head and looked back towards the inert patient.

"That would explain how his lungs went downhill so fast after being shot," he turned towards Ziva and added, "You need to leave the room so we can better attend to your friend."

Ziva opened her mouth to protest, but looking down at Tony and seeing how completely lifeless he appeared, she quickly decided she could not do any good by staying.

* * *

Gibbs walked rapidly to the nearest set of payphones. Lifting up the receiver he dialed the number Ziva had given him. He had sent McGee and Lee to the hospital, but had decided to continue to follow the captors' demands in case something went wrong. His anxiety rose with every ring that the call went unanswered. Finally, a voice asked somewhat haltingly, "Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Yes," Gibbs answered.

"There is a car waiting outside for you. A man will be standing outside it holding a sign that says Mr. Johnson on it. Go with the man, and he will take you to meet us," the voice directed in broken English.

"I want to speak with my son," Gibbs stated forcefully, knowing that in all probability the man he was speaking to was not at the hospital with Tony. There was a long pause and Gibbs almost smiled at the thought of the man's discomfort at the situation.

"You may speak with him when you arrive," the gruff voice finally responded before the line went dead.

Gibbs hung up the phone and headed towards the airport exit. Once out in the muggy air, Gibbs quickly spotted the man who had been described to him and approached him cautiously.

Without saying anything the man opened the car door and motioned Gibbs inside. Taking a last look around him Gibbs quickly ducked in, hearing the door close behind him.

* * *

Ziva sat awkwardly next several of the ELN militants. Their guns rested on their laps or against their legs. Ziva had long since discarded the idea of trying to arm herself. With Gibbs on the way and Tony critically injured she could not see the point.

The hard plastic chairs were extremely uncomfortable and with the passing minutes she had gradually slumped down to being nearly parallel to the floor. She popped up suddenly as the doctor came into sight.

"How is he doing?" Ziva practically shouted while the doctor was still several yards away.

"He is still unconscious and on a ventilator. I believe he has septicemia, or blood poisoning. A blood test will confirm this. I have started him on intravenous antibiotics. He hasn't yet progressed to septic shock, which can be fatal. We'll be monitoring him in case he goes into renal failure or has a splenic infarction. We're hoping to get him off the intubation soon and onto an oxygen mask, but we'll have to wait and see," the doctor explained slowly to Ziva.

After taking a moment to absorb this information and slightly averting her eyes from the doctor's gaze, she asked softly "Do you expect him to recover?"

"We're keeping track of his oxygen level and monitoring his heart. If his blood pressure drops any more, and if he begins hyperventilating or his white blood cell count spikes or drops, he'll have gone into septic shock. Septic shock has more than between a 25 and 50 mortality rate. If he was given long-term antibiotics when he had the plague this will increase his probability of developing septic shock," the doctor responded.

Her head spinning and unable to focus, Ziva caught "50 mortality rate" and little else. "Can I see him?" She choked out.

Glancing towards the ELN, and deciding not to deny them anything, he nodded.

Ziva walked slowly down the hall, listening to the echoing sounds of her shoes hitting the linoleum floor. When she reached the door she waited several seconds before turning to face it. Tony was almost perfectly framed by the door's window. Grasping the cold door handle she slowly opened the door and took a step in.

From the doorway she could see the array of machines surrounding her fallen partner. A tube ran down his throat and an IV stuck out from his arm. A monitor on his finger measured his oxygen levels and a tube entered his body from beneath the collarbone. The machines were beeping reassuringly, but to Ziva Tony appeared dead. Walking up to his side she let her finger follow several of the tubes and wires. Pulling a chair up to the bed she took a deep breath and grasped Tony's hand.

She tried to think of something funny or witty to say, in case Tony could hear her. Something to lessen the tension and emotion of the moment. Nothing came out as the single tear slid down her cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post. I've had finals and since Spring break has started I've been watching my nephew and helping my mom with my other brother's scholarships…. Ok, enough excuses. Here's the chapter!_

McGee and Lee pulled into the hospital parking lot. It was conspicuously empty. They turned to watch as another car pulled in beside them. Director Shepard had been able to get into contact with Mossad and two of their agents were meeting them. McGee eyed the two agents. There was a man and a woman, and both looked as deadly as Ziva.

The group quickly gathered and attempted to form some sort of plan. Lee wanted to go in pretending to need medical attention, the Mossad officers wanted to walk in with their guns drawn, while McGee wanted to see if they could do any sort of reconnaissance without committing to a plan yet. Finally it was decided that McGee and Lee would go in, gauge the situation, and if necessary the Mossad could come in guns blazing.

McGee's stomach tightened as they approached the hospital doors. Neither he nor Lee spoke Spanish, so they were going in as tourists. Lee was pretending to be ill, grasping her stomach and leaning against McGee's side. The doors slid open and they walked into the Emergency department waiting room. Almost immediately two ELN militants jumped to their feet from their chairs against the wall. They started shouting in rapid Spanish, waving their guns threateningly. McGee tried to steel himself as he held his hands up placatingly.

"My girlfriend is sick. She needs help. _Medicina_," McGee pled in a desperate tone that he didn't have to fake.

The ELN continued to shout and McGee was on the verge of pulling Lee out of the hospital when a doctor arrived. He spoke quietly to the ELN, receiving shouts in return. He seemed to find some courage and he said something to the militants that caused them to pause and then nod. He turned to McGee and Lee and asked in accented English, "You need help?" McGee nodded and the doctor motioned them to follow him.

They followed him down the hall, walking slowly to give McGee the chance to glance through the windows of the different rooms. They passed the trauma rooms first, in the third door McGee caught a glimpse of Ziva sitting by Tony's side. She appeared to be crying, and it took every ounce of McGee's will to walk past and keep up the charade.

The doctor finally stopped and opened the door to an examination room. "Wait here," he said, motioning them inside, "Nurse come." He gave them a reassuring smile and left them alone in the room. McGee spun around to face Lee, who had already sat down on the bed.

"I saw Ziva and Tony in a room a couple of doors down. You stay here and if the nurse comes tell her I went to find the bathroom. I'm going to ask Ziva how many of the ELN are here, and then we'll try to think of something."

Lee nodded and quickly removed her gun from her waistband, hiding it under the mattress of the examination bed.

* * *

Ziva sat holding Tony's hand and staring at the floor. She suddenly felt incredibly tired, so she pushed back her chair and rested her forehead on the bed next to Tony's shoulder.

The door opened quietly, but Ziva didn't turn to look. Another nurse to come in and tell her Tony's condition had worsened. She wasn't sitting up for that. A hand clasped down on her shoulder and a voice whispered in her ear, "Ziva, it's me."

Ziva jumped to a standing position, turning around. Stunned by the sight of McGee, her mouth dropped open and she backed up slightly, afraid she was hallucinating.

"Ziva, how's Tony?" McGee asked, quietly looking down at Tony's inert form.

Recovering from her shock, she joined McGee in looking at their fallen partner. "They think he may be going into septic shock," Ziva answered, trying to keep the emotion from reaching her voice.

McGee eyed her curiously before refocusing on the mission ahead. "How many ELN are here?" He asked in the most professional tone he could muster.

"Four," she answered, swiftly shifting into her agent mode. "Three have hand guns and one has an assault rifle."

"There were only two in the waiting room; do you know where the other two are?" McGee asked urgently. Every moment he spent in the room increased his chance of being discovered. Ziva shook her head.

"OK. I'm going to go back and talk with Lee, we also have two Mossad officers waiting outside. You just stay here and I'll try to come back to update you." With that McGee gave Ziva's hand a quick squeeze and left the room.

* * *

The car pulled into a small camp and Gibbs knew that they had reached their destination. The car stopped and his door was quickly opened from the outside. Stepping out, Gibbs caught sight of a stern looking ELN member, scowling at him from over the bandanna that covered his face. Two more ELN stood behind him.

The stern man, whom Gibbs promptly recognized as their leader, walked forward and placed himself a scant two feet away from Gibbs.

"The money, Mr. DiNozzo," the man asked immediately.

"Where's my son?" Gibbs asked back, trying to strike a balance between subservience and defiance.

The stern man's eyes seemed to smile maliciously. Suddenly his hand shot out and he grabbed the suitcase from Gibbs' hand. Tossing it back to another militant, he backed away. Quickly opening the suitcase, the other two ELN starting rifling through the money. One of them yelled something in Spanish to his boss.

Pausing for only a second, the stern man walked back up to Gibbs and pointed his finger at him. "Where is the rest?" He struggled in his broken English. His anger emanated from him and Gibbs had to struggle not to smirk.

"You'll get it when I get my son," Gibbs answered icily.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony could no longer be positive of what was real. His fevered dreams and glimpses of reality had no definite boundaries. If he could have thought rationally he would have taken comfort in the fact that his awareness of his pain had lessened as well, but instead of thoughts he knew only fear and confusion. His awareness of changes from piercing light to suffocating darkness was minimal at most. Tony ceases to exist; if consciousness of oneself is to be considered existence. Ziva may be painfully aware of Tony's labored breathing, but for all intents and purposes Tony DiNozzo was dead to the world.

McGee reentered Lee's room. She had changed into a hospital gown and sat up as the door closed.

"The nurse came in, said the doctor will be coming soon... I think," Lee informed him.

"OK, we have four ELN. I don't know where the other two are, but I think our best bet is to try to avoid a firefight in the middle of the hospital," McGee replied. Lee nodded her assent.

Just then the doctor walked in, medical file in hand. Closing it, he smiled and looked up at them. "Mrs. Smith, you are having pain in the stomach?" He asked with a smile. McGee glanced at Lee. They didn't have much time. The doctor seemed like a good guy, they would just have to trust him.

"The man a couple of doors over, how's he doing?" McGee asked. The doctor looked at him suspiciously. McGee pulled out his badge and flashed it at the doctor. "He is a US federal agent. We need to get him out of this hospital and away from the ELN. We'll need an ambulance and a nurse to take care of him," McGee said slowly, enunciating as best as he could. The doctor seemed dumbfounded as he stared blankly at McGee.

"Do you understand me?" McGee asked. The doctor shook his head and looked up at McGee again.

"I understand. Do you understand? What you ask me to do, the ELN will kill me and my family!" He exclaimed in a stifled yell, looking around as if to be sure the ELN hadn't heard him.

McGee felt like shaking some sense into the doctor, but at the same time he understood his fear. Giving a sigh, McGee tried again, lowering his voice.

"Tony is my partner; I need to get him to safety, along with everyone else. I don't want you or your family to be hurt. We can make it look like we stole your ambulance and escaped without your help. We have people in Colombia who can look out for you. 

When they get their money the ELN will kill Tony and Ziva, the girl with him. I know you don't want that to happen, you heal people, you don't kill them."

The doctor shook his head several times. To McGee it looked as if he was going to cry. McGee felt bad, but he didn't have time to let the man work through the problem at hand.

"Pick your best nurse. She doesn't have to speak English, Ziva can translate," McGee stated as if the doctor had already agreed.

The doctor shook his head again, and McGee felt himself losing his temper. "We don't have much time!" McGee hissed.

Looking back up, the doctor met McGee's eyes. "Your friend. He should not be moved. His condition could get bad. He needs hospital," the doctor explained.

Realizing the source of the doctor's hesitation, McGee felt briefly ashamed. But he didn't have time for emotions. Gibbs had entrusted him with getting Tony and everyone else out alive. He wasn't going to let him down. "How far is the closest hospital with the equipment to care for him?" he asked.

"20 minutes," the doctor answered.

"Tony won't die. Gibbs hasn't given him permission," McGee replied. The doctor stared at him, confused. "Go get the nurse and have the ambulance prepared, than come back in here, ok?" McGee continued. He slapped the doctor on the shoulder and walked towards the door. Looking out the narrow window he assured there was no unwanted militant presence in the hall before stepping out.

Ziva looked up again to see McGee sliding through the door.

"We're getting out of here. We're going to move Tony to the nearest hospital. I'll need you to call in a threat in Spanish so that we'll have police presence to give us some protection. Hopefully it will be a while before the ELN notice we're gone," McGee rapidly fired at Ziva.

Ziva glanced back down at Tony's pale form. "Can he be moved?" she asked almost timidly.

Off put by the emotion evident in Ziva's voice McGee almost felt like lying to her. However he decided he wouldn't be able to fool her and went with the truth. "He has to, Ziva," he responded sympathetically.



For a moment Ziva was still. McGee thought that she hadn't heard him until she nodded her head in agreement.

Gibbs sat in the back of a covered truck with two grim ELN and a very silent Lt. Santos. They were heading to the hospital were Tony and Ziva were, or had been, as Gibbs hoped. If McGee had already got them out, than Gibbs would only have himself and Santos to worry about. If he hadn't… Gibbs would cross that bridge when he reached it.

Gibbs threw Lt. Santos a half smile. The poor kid looked shell shocked.

It was taking longer than he liked to get everything prepared. As much as McGee tried to hurry the doctor, it didn't seem that he could move any faster. As he had patiently explained to the impatient federal agent, moving someone as sick as Tony had to be carefully thought out and executed. They had to be ready for any emergency that could befall them en route. A couple of nurses were busy stocking the ambulance, and the Mossad operatives had moved the cars next to the ambulance bay so that they could all leave together.

The only good news that had come out of the delay was that Tony seemed to be turning a corner. His blood pressure had risen and his white blood cell count had normalized. The doctor even thought that he could be taken off the ventilator soon. The danger of septic shock seemed to have passed, but the doctor warned that Tony still required a lot of care.

As far as McGee could tell the ELN that had accompanied Tony and Ziva to the hospital did not seemed overly worried about security. Ziva told him that they checked in on her every once in a while, but with no regularity and as time passed their visits were even more infrequent. McGee could only hope that their lackadaisical attitude would continue for a while longer.

When the time came to move Tony to the ambulance Ziva's apprehension rose to a fever pitch. As the nurses disconnected various wires and reconnected them to smaller, portable machines, Ziva feared that something would go wrong. She feared that the beeps that disappeared upon disconnection would not reappear. With each one that started again its incessant serenade she breathed anew. Finally the last wire had been reattached and the nurses gave Ziva a reassuring smile.

Ziva felt a weight lift off her which was quickly followed by utter exhaustion. She had pushed aside and ignored it for so long that all at once it seemed overwhelming. 

She rested her hands on the railing of Tony's bed and felt her whole body begin to droop. She was not sure how long she had stood in this position when she felt something graze her hand.

Shocked into agent mode Ziva eyes bolted open and she jumped back. Quickly looking around she didn't notice anything out of place. The nurses had left and the room was empty. Empty except for Ziva and Tony. Ziva slowly turned her eyes down towards Tony, not willing to hope. When she had finally made her visual trek down to Tony's face, she almost jumped back once again. His eyes were barely open, but they were open. And they were looking right at her.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. Turns out that writing a 12-20 page honors senior thesis on Religion in Don Quijote in Spanish is not as easy as it sounds. _

_I love your reviews. Keep it up!_

* * *

As Ziva continued to look at Tony, astonished, he began to cough violently. Ziva hit the nurse alert button several times. Tony brought his hand up, clutching at his throat. Ziva grasped them quickly to keep him from disconnecting anything. None too soon, a nurse and the doctor ran in.

"He is coughing, what is wrong?" Ziva asked anxiously.

"This happen when they wake up. Ventilator is uncomfortable. Calm him and I will take it out," the doctor tried to explain as quickly as possible.

"Tony, you need to calm down. You are not choking, it is the ventilator. The doctor is going to take it out," Ziva tried to reassure Tony, whose eyes seemed to show that he was beyond reassurance.

Gently moving Ziva aside, the doctor leaned towards Tony. "On the count of three, big breath out, ok?" he asked as he grasped the tube. "1, 2, 3." And before Ziva knew it the tube was out and Tony was coughing again. The nurse hurried over to him with a cup of water, which he gratefully sipped at through a straw.

Just then McGee came through the door, stopping suddenly when he took in the scene before him. "Tony, you're awake!" he exclaimed as he rushed over to the gurney.

"Probie," Tony rasped, "When did you get here?"

"I'll explain later, right now we need to get out of here. Is he ready to go?" McGee asked, turning to the doctor.

"Yes."

"OK, let's get out of here before the ELN decides to check in on you again," McGee said giving Tony a slight smile while trying to hide his apprehension. "I'll check the halls and get Agent Lee. Be ready to go."

* * *

The truck came to a slow stop and the ELN ushered Gibbs and Santos out the back. Quickly readjusting his eyes to the bright sunlight, Gibbs scanned the surrounding parking lot and the hospital before them. The parking lot was all but empty, and everything was still.

The stern man began to lead the group slowly towards the hospital entrance. Gibbs began to feel his usually steel nerves begin to rattle with each step towards the double doors. When they finally reached them they entered into a waiting room. Several ELN jumped up from chairs lined against the wall. The stern man began yelling at them in rapid-fire Spanish. They began marching quickly down the hall and the stern man turned to motion for Gibbs to follow.

They walked down the hall and turned a corner, an ELN member leading them to what Gibbs supposed must be Tony's room. The ELN stopped abruptly, and pausing briefly before the narrow window on the door, he burst in. Gibbs heard yelling in Spanish and the stern man pushed ahead of the others and into the room. Gibbs felt the corner of his mouth twitch. They'd gotten away.

* * *

McGee was feeling more anxious the closer they got to escape. Something had to go wrong. He could just feel it. He watched as the legs of Tony's gurney buckled as it was pushed into the back of the ambulance. One of the nurses jumped into the back while the other one seemed to be explaining something to one of the Mossad officers. Directions to the nearest hospital, McGee guessed.

Starting to head towards one of the cars, he left Ziva behind to join Tony. Then he heard a door creak and turned back towards the ambulance, but the ambulance doors were still wide open. Quickly spinning towards the emergency doors he saw some very angry militants.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I had to turn to my dad again to break my writer's block. I e-mailed him what I had written of this chapter, expecting him to respond with outlined ideas as he did last time. To my great surprise he sent an actual written story. Go Dad! It wasn't the best writing ever, I had to finesse it a lot, but he has a good grasp of the characters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Ziva spun around 150 milliseconds after her brain registered the sound of the hospital doors opening. Seeing the militants burst through the doorway she grabbed at the gun that McGee had provided her and spun around again to shut the ambulance doors. She heard shots being fired as she moved quickly to the side of the ambulance to allow her some minimal cover.

McGee was crouching behind one of the cars' open doors along with the two Mossad agents. From the rear of the militants Ziva could detect a scuffle and her mind immediately knew that it must be Gibbs. Ziva took a shot at one of the foremost ELN before dropping to her knees and shooting again. Almost immediately she felt liquid running down her shoulder, and moved back along the ambulance to give herself more protection. She pulled out the one extra clip that McGee had given her. She hoped that would be enough.

Taking a moment to breath, Ziva made a quick assessment of her injury. "Right shoulder", she murmured, silently cursing in Hebrew. Although she could fire with both hands, this "shouldercap" (_if there is a handicap there should be a shouldercap also_, she thought) was too much. Ziva knew that the ELN had an advantage in regards to weapons, but she had training on par with the best. With the adrenaline pumping she smiled to herself, _What is it that the Americans say? The best defense is an offense? Well, I say sometimes to go forward one must go backwards_.

Taking two quick steps backwards, she quickly opened the ambulance door. The frightened nurse was huddled down between the driver and passenger seats, making it easy for Ziva to slip past her

"Llaves!" Ziva yelled, to which a shaky hand pointed up to the visor. Ziva would have shook her head if she had not been busy trying to get the upper hand in a fire fight.

Quickly turning the key in the ignition, she took off the brakes and took a quick look in the side mirror to align herself with the hospital doors. Her actions were so hurried that she forgot to yell at Gibbs to take cover.

* * *

Gibbs also appreciated the urgent need to adjust the odds in their favor. His mind spinning with possible scenarios, he just barely noticed the motion of the ambulance moving towards him. For a split second he told himself to remember to fire whoever was driving.

Stepping backwards he pulled an ELN rebel back with him as the door which usually opened outwards came crashing inwards. The ELN rebel was picked up by the door's revolving motion and was spun into the wall. One down.

* * *

Ziva felt a distinctive _thump_ in the ambulance and heard loud swearing in Spanish. She had to smile.

Taking a quick check of all the mirrors, she grabbed her gun once more and carefully opened the ambulance door.

Walking slowly towards the back of the ambulance, she took quick stock of the situation. Two ELN militants were on the ground to her right, with the two Mossad officers standing over them and McGee apparently trying to convince them not to shoot the wounded and unarmed kidnappers. Continuing on, she quickly found the source of the _thump_. Angry Eyes was pinned under the ambulance and against the wall of the hospital. His gun having been thrown aside during the impact, he was no longer a threat. Ziva tilted her head and gave him a large smile.

* * *

With the ambulance firmly jammed against and partially in the hospital, Gibbs had no other choice than to go through it to get out. Opening the back door of the ambulance with significant difficulty, he found Tony and the nurse in a rather unusual position.

"Tony!" Gibbs yelled in his usually authoritative tone.

"Sorry, boss," came Tony's weak response as the nurse slowly lifted herself off him.

Gibbs patted Tony on the shoulder as he made his way to the front. Sitting himself in the driver's seat he turned the ignition. The engine didn't catch on the first try or on the second either, but on the third try it finally roared to life.

"I'm moving the ambulance!" He called out window. Without waiting for a response he slowly pulled the ambulance several yards forward. Turning it off once more and carefully setting the brake he exited the ambulance to take command of the scene.

* * *

Angry Eyes groaned in pain as the tire rolled off his leg. Ziva simply continued to smile down at him.

Gibbs came storming towards them, glaring down at the wounded militant, and Ziva stepped back to give him some space.

Turning towards the ambulance, Ziva caught sight of Tony through the mangled doors. The nurse seemed to be reconnecting some wires, and Ziva felt a delayed worry for Tony's health. She mentally slapped herself for not taking it into account earlier.

"Are you alright, Tony?" She called, suddenly anxious.

"Never better," came his raspy response. "You're bleeding," he added as he raised his head and squinted at her in concern.

"It is only a flesh wound," she responded, letting her anxieties slip away and flashing her partner a smile.

Gibbs came up behind Ziva and looked at her right shoulder. Almost annoyed Gibbs exclaimed: "Now I have two of you to evacuate out of here!"


	13. Epilogue

In the time needed to bandage Ziva up and assure that Tony was stabilized Gibbs had been able to arrange for a medevac airplane to fly them to the states. Ziva's wound had only grazed bone and had been fairly simple to patch up. Tony continued to slowly improve, sometimes suffering relapses of altered mental status that Ziva was sure were feigned.

During the flight back to Washington, D.C. Gibbs was forced to slap Ziva once and Tony three times, much to the chagrin of the medical personnel. Upon arrival Ziva and Tony were transported to Bethesda where Tony stayed under observation for one week and Ziva received frequent check-ups. Abby made a calendar marking of the days until Tony and Ziva's return to work, making sure to visit them as often as possible. She made sure to tell Tony cheerily that everything would soon be back to normal. But that's what worried him. Normal didn't treat him too well.

* * *

_A/N: Well, that was it. Yay for finishing a story! If I find time while I'm working I'll try to write another story over the summer. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews, and thanks for reading!_

_Alyssa_


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